


Dusk

by Milk_Of_Arsinoe_The_Awesome



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Blood Drinking, Dark Renesmee, F/M, Possibly a secret relationship if I get that far, Reneslec, Secret Relationship, Volturi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 14:59:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12344991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milk_Of_Arsinoe_The_Awesome/pseuds/Milk_Of_Arsinoe_The_Awesome
Summary: Renesmee Cullen is tired of her life in the coven in which she was raised, though she wouldn't dare say anything to her family members or Jacob. She loves them to much to disappoint them. And so, the Huntress lays in wait.





	Dusk

Hidden in an alleyway in Bismarck, North Dakota, I sit in the shadows waiting for my prey. I noticed him this morning when I was just browsing the area, searching for the perfect candidate for my meal tonight. It's a Saturday, I have the whole day off my classes—I attend school a few hours away by car, in the incredibly small town of Wildrose. There's nothing there, but it's one of my favourite locations we've lived in so far. However, the lack of people makes it near impossible to hunt nearby. Not to mention the fact that I can't exactly kill someone who's likely to be missed by one of my neighbours. My family members with their many talents would easily discern my secret if I turned out to be the cause of someone's pain.

I couldn't help it though. I've never liked eating human food, though I do eat it reluctantly during meals because my family members cannot. Well, theoretically, they could, but they'd have to throw it back up eventually as they can't digest it. I don't know why I have to bear the pain. They've been dealing just fine for the centuries they've lived with few people noticing that detail. I hate human food. It tastes awful.

Naturally, as a half-vampire, I prefer blood, such as the sack of plasma walking towards the alley at this moment, the homeless man who had left only to get lunch from the homeless shelter. I almost didn't go for him. There was a teenage boy staring at me earlier I almost chose to ensnare with my beauty. I recently turned fifteen a month ago, though I've been stuck at that age physically for almost ten years. My grandfather assumes it's because females—such as myself—stop aging earlier than men, though most of the other female halflings I've had the displeasure—I mean pleasure—of meeting were as childlike as myself. Most of them appeared a few years older, between sixteen and twenty. To be fair, they all had the same father. Maybe it was genetics. Maybe it was fate. I wasn't sure.

My family members would kill me if they knew what my diet consisted of these days. When I hunted, I was supposed to go after the animal life in the nearby reserves or if I must, the various sections of woods around the state. It was most definitely not to jump from city to city, town to town, murdering harmless human vagrants, druggies, and occasional normal folk. I somehow couldn't bring myself to care much, however. I wanted human blood, I thirsted for human blood, craved it with every fibre of my being since before I was even born. Even in the womb, my mother craved it for me.

My family members told me that killing humans was wrong, that we must drink only animals, conquer our bloodlust. When I was a child, this made a little sense. I still wanted the bagged blood that I was given in substitute to nursing, but I understood that my family members wanted me to think that killing was wrong, and so I did, until I was nine.

I was physically the age I am now, though at that time we lived in Tofino, a small town in Canada that resides inside the providence of British Columbia. One of the three girls who lived in the house nearby, a pretty sixteen-year-old named Jenna, had come over with a pie baked by her mother. My grandmother had invited her in—I'd been at the bookstore when she'd come to the door.

I don't remember much about the initial frenzied attack when I'd gotten home, just that my parents had to restrain me. The girl left the house right after that, scared out of her mind. We were about to move again—though no one blamed a nine-year-old for not being able to resist her singer—but then she'd mysteriously drowned in an accident a day later.

My family members pretended not to know that I'd killed her, though my parents did sit me down and tell me their gross love story after that, how she'd been his singer and he'd resisted sitting close to her, sucking venom out of a wound, utter nonsense I cared less about. I only remembered the taste of that blood, the fear in her eyes when she realised that petite little me—standing slightly taller than my shortest aunt—was an actual threat to her existence. It was exhilarating.

All that led to now, a few hundred humans later and none of my family are the wiser. It's hard keeping it a secret from my father and uncle the most—they had powers that for me made it hard to hide anything. One of my aunts—the aforementioned short one—would have been a problem if her power worked on me. Luckily, it didn't.

I could hear my prey approaching. I stepped out of the shadows. The man cocked his head in confusion. He didn't expect a young teenager with doe eyes to be waiting in the darkness of the alley when he returned. I let tears fill up my face. "Uh, sir." I said. "Are… they still out there. The boys, I mean. One of them got a little handsy."

The man looked at me, anger filling his expression. Not all homeless men were bad, I knew. Many were just handed an unlucky hand. They still had morals. After stalking this one this morning, I had a feeling I'd garner sympathies with this story. He sat down next to me. "You're alright kid. Ain't no one out there but me at the moment."

"Good." I said before straddling his waist. I could have bitten him from anywhere in any position, but I preferred the jugular like most of my kind and it was more comfortable to get to from the front. His eyes filled with panic as I pulled his body towards me with the speed and strength that a human should not have the capacity to possess.

He was lifeless in seconds, his body void of all the plasma that I could muster. I pulled away and was about to drag the corpse away from the scene to dispose of it properly when I caught the scent of a vampire behind me. It was vaguely familiar and I assumed it was one of the vampires I'd met as a baby. I probably didn't know this one well at the time if I couldn't place the owner. I growled instinctually, even though I'd already caught my prey.

The person laughed and I turned, catching the red eyes first. They were enchanting and terrifying at the same time. They didn't look very old, maybe a few years younger than me, physically—right at the cusps between the illegal immortal children and a young teenager. He stood at a stature that was just under my own height.

That wasn't what made me recoil in fear, yet simultaneously excite me from the suspense. Over his clothes, he wore a long dark cloak, a Volturi crest hanging from his neck, establishing him as one of the members of the Guard. The Volturi were ruthless, merciless, and interesting. Some might find me odd for thinking so, considering they tried to kill me when I was barely out of my mother's womb. My only memory of them was a cold December day—well, I didn't find it cold, but I assume it was.

"You're Alec." I said.

"Right you are." He said, a warm smile on his face. I was a bit surprised. My father made me think that the Volturi were apathetic monsters, each with a power-hungry agenda. He seemed nice enough, especially for a Guard member with such a terrifying power. I was already enchanted. "It's nice to see that you've improved your taste palate, Renesmee Cullen."

My name sounded beautiful coming from his mouth. For some reason, I could only hope that he'd thought the same.


End file.
